Once upon a time
by NancyMay
Summary: Once upon a time there was a girl named Jean... A story set way in the past.
1. Chapter 1

There are many stories where Jean and Lucien get together, and quite often there is a back line that Christopher was not, shall we say, an adventurous lover. He's usually portrayed as rather selfish in that regard. This story is set as Jean embarks on her first marriage, and how she takes to being a wife, for the first time.

The idea of Jean not knowing much comes from stories my dear mother-in-law has told me, which makes me wonder how she actually managed to get pregnant, she admits she was clueless!

Thanks to Crinklybrownleaves for the heads up on Jean's maiden name.

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The excitement of the day was still on the young Mrs Beazley as she and her husband boarded the train for their short honeymoon in Melbourne. They could not be away too long because they were taking over the farm, letting his parents leave and enjoy retirement.

They found a quiet carriage, but they were still not alone so some pre-wedding night kissing was out. She had to admit to a little disappointment but at least he held her hand, which before today he would not have done, well, not in public anyway. She thought back to their courtship, conservative, Catholic in the extreme, kissing was allowed, hugging, of course but not 'going too far' whatever that was. She'd heard of girls who did so and ended up in the family way, but her mother had been unforthcoming when the young Jean had asked what she meant by 'too far'. Which was no help because then she didn't know if she had gone 'too far'. She had had to ask a very close school friend who had only said,

'Don't let him touch you 'there',' pointing to a vague area at the top of her legs.

Christopher had never bothered to touch her there, or attempt to, he was quite happy to kiss her and put his hand round her waist, he did, once, touch her breast, through her sweater, but she had jumped and he hadn't done it again.

And there was the wedding night, she hadn't a clue what would happen right up until the morning of the wedding and then her mother had given her some old towels, 'for the bed', which confused Jean and then just whispered something vague about Christopher having some part of his body that would get hard and he would put it in that 'forbidden place.' Jean had blushed furiously, even though she knew boys were built differently than girls, she'd sneaked a look in an art book in the library and there were pictures of classical statues, so she knew what was different, anatomy-wise but, hard, nah! She wished her brother didn't lock his bedroom door or the bathroom one. He had a girlfriend and she caught them kissing one night in the living room, and his hand was up her skirt. She'd been seen and her brother had grabbed her by the arm and told her that if she told their parents he'd make her sorry.

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Their hotel was not grand, just small and a little insignificant. But it wasn't Ballarat so it was better.

She unpacked her small suitcase and offered to do his. He just nodded. She folded his pyjamas and put them on the bed, next to her new nightdress. She usually wore pyjamas but when her mother put her trousseau together she said a nightdress was more suitable.

She went to his side and took his hand. He was staring out of the window.

'Christopher?' She whispered.

'Hm, yes, just looking at the view,' he looked at her, thinking he ought to say something romantic, 'but the view in here is...nicer.' Thank god she dragged him to those awful soppy movies. He had to admit she did look pretty in her going-away outfit of a blue suit, that fitted rather well. He knew he was lucky to have, in his friends words, 'bagged the Randall girl', she was the prettiest in the town.

'Shall we go to dinner?' He suggested, it was too early to go to bed, if that was what she was hoping. He knew she was a virgin and he'd only been with a woman once. His father had suggested it in joke, but Christopher hadn't seen it as such, and had been given all the worst farm jobs for a week as punishment. He had assured his father there would be no come back, she'd made him use a johnny.

'If you like.' She smiled shyly.

Dinner was pleasant, neither were accustomed to drinking wine, even though they'd had champagne at the wedding; her parents had insisted; so they stuck to water and Jean didn't want to be drunk on her wedding night.

Christopher suggested a short stroll, get some fresh air, so she agreed all the while wondering why he wasn't doing what she had seen in some movies and read in books, that is whisk her off to their room and undress her. Still she had been brought up to respect her man and she didn't want their first night together to end in a row.

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They finally found themselves in their room. Jean took her hat off and hung her jacket up and took Christopher's jacket and hung it beside hers in the wardrobe.

'Would you like to use the bathroom first?' He asked.

'Yes, alright.' So it looked like she wouldn't be dreamily undressed. She took her nightdress and matching negligee and went down the hall to prepare herself.

She returned and he took his pyjamas and robe and went to change. She put her clothes away and put the towels on the bed, as he mother had, almost, directed, she reckoned about bottom area. she got into bed and lay there waiting for him to come to her.

Christopher returned and put his clothes away then got into bed beside her. He looked at her she smiled. He turned on his side facing her and pulled her close, drawing her into a deeper kiss than he had ever done before, even using his tongue. He tasted of toothpaste. She wriggled closer and put her arms round him.

He pushed her onto her back continuing to kiss her and she felt his hand stroke her breast, over her nightdress. She rather liked it then she gasped as he put his hand inside the garment and squeezed her nipple. She stiffened, then as he looked at her, she relaxed and let him continue.

She decided she'd better do something so she put her hand inside his top, finding smooth skin, firm but not too muscular, just enough. While she was stroking his chest she felt something move against her leg from between his legs. Was that what her mother meant? That was what was hard? She felt his hand run down her body and lift her nightdress and slip between her legs. She froze. He looked at her.

'It's ok, Jean,' He said, gently, 'this is what's meant to happen, you're my wife now.'

'Right, ok, then.' She tried to relax as he went back to touching her. When he thought she was ready he moved his hand away and pulled his pyjama bottoms down then moved over her parting her legs and...it all happened so fast and it hurt. By the time she had registered what he was doing it was all over and he rolled off her, turning over and going to sleep.

She lay there stunned, between her legs she could see why her mother has given her old towels for the first time, to be thrown away afterwards. But, was that it? Was that what she had dreamed about? Why wasn't she told it would hurt? She turned over and cried silent tears until she slept, a dreamless sleep.

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She went to the bathroom before Christopher awoke and had a soothing bath. She was sore and wondered if he would do the same again that night. Would it get easier after the first time? God, she hoped so, but at least she had a better idea of what was going to happen. Perhaps she could slow him down a little.

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Christopher heard her come back into the room. She had obviously bathed and dressed in the bathroom.

Mornin',' he said, 'you ok?'

'Yes, fine,' she answered trying to sound so, 'are you?'

'Yeah.' He grinned, he had no idea how disappointed she was.

'Shall I ring down for some tea?' She asked.

'Yeah, I'll go and wash.' He grabbed his robe and sauntered out of the room. She'd learn, he thought, it was her first time and she was only seventeen, he was a masterly nineteen. Kidding himself he was some kind of lothario.

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So, did it get any better for Jean?

I'm sorry if you think she's ridiculously naive but after what my mother-in-law told me, and she was born in 1933, maybe Jean's mother was as communicative as hers.


	2. Chapter 2 A need to talk

They spent the day wandering about Melbourne, hand in hand , like a newly married couple should. This part of being married Jean rather liked. Christopher took her for a light lunch and they sat in a park. He occasionally kissed her, rather chastely on the cheek, but it was in public. He put his arm round her as they headed back to the hotel and she leant happily against his shoulder. For the most part Jean supposed she loved Christopher, she would just have to get used to 'that' side of marriage, and hopefully he wouldn't do it every night. Her mother had said that she could deny him when it was her 'lady's days,' which was a relief, even if until now she hadn't known why. She determined that should she ever had a daughter she would tell her everything.

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After dinner they again went for a short walk and then headed to their room. Jean was not going to worry about him not undressing her, she just went to the bathroom and washed and changed into her nightdress, which had survived the first time.

She got into bed while he went to the bathroom, regretting she hadn't brought a book with her. Her mother had said one didn't, on a honeymoon.

Christopher got into the bed beside her and rolled to look at her. She lay on her back, staring at the light that he had just turned out. He reached over and pulled her close, starting to kiss her like he had the previous night. She had decided she had better respond a little but wasn't sure how to, so she did her best. As he started to touch her breast, tweaking her nipple she tried not to squeak, concentrating on relaxing. She had liked the feel of his chest the first time and put her hands inside his top again, wondering if he'd mind if she undid the buttons and took it off him. She tried it, he didn't seem to mind, in fact he smiled.

Seeing as she was prepared to undress him he put his hand up her nightdress to find her breasts rather than slipping down through the space between the straps as he had done the night before. He wasn't particularly gentle, she thought, and she could feel the stirrings she had felt the previous night.

He started to part her legs and touch her,

'Slowly, please, dear.' She managed to whisper.

Again he wasn't gentle and waited just a little longer for her to relax. He rubbed up against her leg to pull his trousers off, he couldn't wait any longer so he did the same as the night before and released just as he entered her. He groaned and rolled away leaving her even more confused. What was she doing wrong? She couldn't very well ask him, could she? She daren't ask her mother, it had taken a lot to convince them she was ready to marry, at just seventeen. Oh dear, what was she going to do for the next heaven knows how many years?

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They returned to the farm after a couple more days and a couple more nights of unfulfilling fumbling, for Jean anyway. Christopher didn't comment on her behaviour in bed, he seemed quite happy. She decided there was nothing for it, she was his wife and as such this was her life from now on.

She smiled as they met their friends and family but not wanting to get into conversation told Christopher they should be getting home, she had chores to do.

Christopher headed out to see how the crops had fared, Jean sorted the laundry and, thanking her mother for having the foresight to do some shopping for her she set to, to make him his first home cooked meal. Jean had always enjoyed cooking with her mother and grandmother and for someone so young was quite an accomplished cook.

Christopher came in from the fields and washed his hand at the sink then, standing behind his young wife put his arms round her and kissed the back of her neck. It felt so nice, so natural and she leant back into him. He moved his hands over her breasts and she was shocked to feel him become aroused.

'Christopher!' She struggled away from him.

'Come on, Jean.' He urged, 'we're home now, we can anytime we want to.' He held her tight.

'But...' dare she say she didn't want to, tears sprang to her eyes.

'You do love me, don't you?' The guilt card.

'Yes,' she bit her lip not daring to cry, 'I thought you'd want dinner.'

'Afterwards.' His hands were all over her, 'we need to christen our new bed.'

He picked her up, but in spite of her romantic thoughts, it didn't feel right. He carried her, now resigned, to the bedroom and put her on the bed. He started to undress her, frantic un buttoning of her dress then, took off what he needed to. Pushing her onto the bed he covered her in hard kisses, in between mumbling, such things as 'love you,' and 'you're lovely,'.

His release was quick again and he sighed, falling to lie half on her.

Jean lay there, stunned. She shuffled out from under him and went to the bathroom to tidy herself up. She splashed cold water on her face and gave herself a good talking to.

'Your bed, Jean. You have to lie on it.' She told her reflection. 'Now how are you going to handle this? Right, you need to relax, then maybe it won't hurt so much. Let him have his way, you'll get used to it, and maybe he'll learn to be a bit more generous.'

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Jean's good talking to helped her, it always did. She began to relax and he didn't expect her to be intimate every night. They settled into married life, the farm was hard work, but Jean was a hard worker. She managed to persuade him to take his time with her a bit more, saying she wanted him to enjoy it more, not telling him she wasn't really.

They'd been married for two months when she realised her 'lady's days' hadn't happened. Her mother had told her that if she missed it would probably mean she was in the family way, but she would need a doctor to confirm it. She couldn't ask her family doctor, he was so old, he'd delivered her; so who to see?

She had gone to do some shopping when this problem found its way into her mind again. She nipped into a phone box where she knew there would be a directory of everything. She found the list of doctors, Dr King, a man, no thanks, she'd seen him, a bit of an old man for her, Dr Thomas Blake, he had a good reputation but the next one she saw gave her hope. Dr Katherine Johnson. A woman, how wonderful! She might even be brave enough to ask questions she couldn't ask her mother or friends. A professional view of her problems.

She stood in front of the receptionist, a nice looking girl with a friendly smile.

'Hello,' She smiled at her, 'can I help you?'

'Er, yes.' Jean hesitated. 'Could I register with Dr Johnson and make an appointment please.'

'Well yes,' the girl opened the diary, 'are you new in town?'

'No, it's just that my family doctor,' Jean blushed, 'he's a man and I would like to see a female doctor.'

'Oh, I see.' The receptionist smiled. 'Can I take your name?'

'It's Mrs Jean Beazley.' Jean announced.

'Do you have something in particular you want to speak to the doctor about? I wouldn't usually ask but as it's your first visit I could make an appropriate appointment. So Dr Johnson can get to know you.'

'I think I may be, er,...' Jean blushed, how embarrassing, even though she was married.

'With child?' The girl smiled again, 'that's ok.'

'Yes,' Jean confirmed in a very small voice.

'Well there is an appointment at the end of the day, how would that suit?' Again a gentle smile, 'you could take your time then.'

Jean took a deep breath, 'That would be lovely, thank you.'

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Sitting in the waiting room she kept her head down and read a magazine until she was called.

Dr Johnson called her through and smiled at the young and desperately nervous young woman that stepped into her consulting room.

'Mrs Beazley,' she held out her hand, 'how lovely to meet you.'

Jean shook her hand and tried to relax. The doctor was a good looking woman, not pretty, but good looking and smartly dressed, fairly young, too, she had a nice welcoming smile and Jean began to feel more at ease.

'Now my dear,' Dr Johnson started, 'what can I do for you?'

'Um.. I think I might be in the family way.' Jean was still embarrassed.

'Ok, now what brings you to this conclusion?' The doctor, leant forward on the desk, her hands clasped together.

'I've missed two cycles.' Jean couldn't look the woman in the eye.

'How long have you been married, dear?'

'Two months, just over.' Jean whispered, to get caught so quick, it was mortifying.

'Well, let's have a look at you, shall we?' She took her blood pressure, height and weight, then said she would need to take a blood sample to confirm it. Then she asked if Jean had any sickness in the morning, any tenderness in her breasts, to which Jean said no to the sickness and yes, a lot, to the tenderness.

Dr Johnson looked at her, the poor child was so nervous and didn't look particularly happy, oh dear, another one. Romantic notions of marriage, no guidance from her mother or other female relative, probably not enjoying the intimacy. So many young wives had come to her since she had qualified, she should run a marriage guidance or sex clinic, she thought. She took note of the tears in Jean's eyes and went to the door.

'Jane,' she called softly to the receptionist, 'I think some tea might be a good idea.'

'Right away, doctor.'

The tea appeared and Dr Johnson poured them both a cup, then sat down in the chair opposite her young patient.

'Now, my dear,' She said gently, 'anything you tell me in this room will go no further. I can see you are less than comfortable with life at the moment. Would you like to tell me about it. I promise I won't laugh or tell you to go away and grin and bear it.'

Jean took a sip of the sweet tea and looked at the doctor. She so desperately wanted to tell someone how much it hurt, that she was doing something wrong. Her husband seemed quite content with her in bed but she wasn't and she was trying to find ways to avoid the intimacy and while Christopher didn't force her his disappointment when she claimed a headache meant she gave in.

She took a deep breath,

'Doctor, I, I think I've made a dreadful mistake, getting married.' She blurted out.

'Now why would that be, dear?'

'I do love him, my husband, but it's just that when he, you know, it hurts.' Jean let the tears fall now.

'I take it neither of you have had any experience of intimacy before you got married?' It was a brave question, the young bride could take flight at the thought.

'I hadn't, Christopher had.'

'What makes you think he had?'

'I stopped by the farm one day, and he was not allowed to see me. He had to do all the worst chores because he'd been with a woman.' Jean was gaining in confidence. 'I asked him and he said his dad had told him to get some practice, but he hadn't realised it was a joke, but he only did it once, with a woman who could 'instruct' him. He said he'd used something so she wouldn't catch.'

'Typical.' The doctor groaned.

'How much did your mother tell you?' And so the conversation went on, Jean unburdened herself to Dr Johnson, all the sordid details, it all came rushing out. The doctor let her talk and cry.

'Right, you need to get to know your body, because it's quite clear you don't.' Jean gasped, what did she mean?

'Next time you're in the bath I want you to use your fingers and explore your body.' The doctor went on to explain she needed to know what Christopher was doing and although the doctor could tell her what he was trying, and failing to do, she needed to find the places he was touching. She also suggested that Christopher see his family doctor and get some instruction. Most men, she said, only knew what they wanted and had no idea how to please a woman and father's were as bad as mother's for not giving their offspring enough information.

It took Jean a few minutes to process this information, but, when her blushes had subsided, she said she'd try.

'Come back and see me next week.' The doctor instructed her, 'I should have your results then. And, Mrs Beazley, you're not the first young bride or likely to be the last, that needs help.'

'Thank you doctor.'

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Jean felt a lot happier when she got off the bus at the farm.

'You've been gone a long time.' Christopher said when he found her in the kitchen.

'I had to go and see the doctor.' Jean told him truthfully.

'I didn't know you were ill.' Christopher put his arms round her, she seemed so much quieter these days.

'I think I'm going to have a baby.' She turned, that was the best bit about having to put up with his fumblings, after all she did want children.

'Really.' Christopher scratched his head. 'That was quick.'

'Mm.' She put her head on his shoulder, she was so tired.

'You ok?' He asked, 'I mean do I need to do anything?'

That surprised her, 'Er no, I'm just tired, that's all.'

'Oh, right.' He gave her a tighter hug, still a bit bemused.

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It took Jean a few days before she got the courage to do what the doctor had suggested in the bath. Christopher didn't stop his attempts at lovemaking just because she was pregnant. She lay looking down at her still slim stomach. The doctor had been kind when she explained everything that was happening and she smiled, whispering,

'Hello, in there.' to her tiny, tiny child growing inside her.

She slid her hand down, gingerly, between her legs and, closing her eyes started to touch where Christopher did. She was rather embarrassed a she did what he did, but gently, then all of a sudden a jolt through her, a pleasant jolt. She smiled, then felt herself redden, she wondered if she dare show him what she needed him to do. Dr Johnson had even suggested she touch him, but that was even more embarrassing to even think about, never mind do!

'Jean?' Christopher called through the bathroom door, 'are you going to be long in there?'

'Five minutes,' she called back.

'Ok,' He was wondering what she was up to, but if she was pregnant then maybe it took her longer in the bath.

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She lay in bed reading, Christopher was in the bathroom. She had taken the decision to initiate intimacy that night. Processing what the doctor had said, she had been remarkably frank, she knew that if she was to survive this marriage she had to take steps.

He climbed into bed,

'Good book?' He enquired, pleasantly.

'Not really.' Jean admitted, she turned to him and smiled.

She had been different today, he decided, somehow more confident. She had kissed him as he left the house after lunch, and kissed him when he put his arms round her at the sink. Admittedly they were little pecks on the cheek, but he liked her like this. She'd always been bright and cheerful but since they married she had become quieter and he wondered if he had done something wrong.

Jean put the book down and wriggled over to him. He immediately moved in but she stopped him.

'Wait, Christopher,' she whispered, 'I want to take it slow this time. Just kissing, for now.'

He raised his eyebrows, but obliged, albeit a bit roughly, until she put her hand on his chest, and he slowed down.

He pulled away, 'Jean?'

'Please, darling, for me.' Her bottom lip trembled slightly and he thought she was going to cry. He touched her lip with his finger and she kissed it. He leant down and started to kiss her , exploring her mouth with his tongue. he wasn't sure what was happening, but he quite liked her taking charge, for once. Well he'd see how it went, anyway.

Jean led him through the kisses, allowing him to deepen them when she was ready. She ignored the nervousness trying to push into her mind and closed her eyes as he tentatively moved his hand down her back. She was ready to let him touch her, and she could feel he wanted her but not yet, he would have to be patient, she told herself.

He slipped his hands between her legs, but she felt different. Instead of holding herself tight she was more relaxed. Somehow she had pushed him onto his back and he felt her remove his trousers then slowly she showed him what she wanted, until she was ready for release, and she arched her back and gave a little cry of relief.

She lay on his chest breathing more heavily than usual, and he found himself almost gasping for air.

'Bloody hell, Jean,' he whispered.

'I'm sorry.' She whimpered.

'Don't be,' he stroked her head, 'I'm the one who should be sorry. I never knew... how?'

'I asked the doctor when I went about the baby.' She looked at him, would he be angry. 'It hurt, when you...you know.'

'Oh, I didn't know,' He stammered, 'why didn't you say?'

'For goodness sake, Christopher,' she huffed, men, clueless, 'I thought it was me.' She started to giggle,

'What's so funny?'

'We need to talk more often,' She sighed, 'about everything.'

Somehow she knew things would get better. They'd never be perfect and he probably wouldn't be the most adventurous lover, but at least they'd get through it.

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The rest is history. I didn't want to drag it out too long, aware that I made Jean the most naive of girls, and we know it wasn't perfect but she loved him, for all his faults.


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